


The Hero That You're Dreaming Of

by Queerily_kai



Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ASL, Animal Abuse, Animal Rescue, Animal Shelter, Autism, Autistic Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Deaf Clint Barton, Death of a Parent, Foster Care, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Star Wars References, aba therapy is awful, author is autistic, cats!!!, dogs!!!, rules and routines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-11 15:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12938334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerily_kai/pseuds/Queerily_kai
Summary: The group home wasnt so bad for Bucky at first, his twin Becca was there, and his new friend Steve.  But then Becca is adopted without Bucky, and his whole world comes crashing down. A diagnosis of Autism lands him at the Hydra Academy.Years later, Bucky's on his own and Steve finds him again, and helps him work through the trauma and PTSD from The Hydra Acadamy's behavioral therapy.   Working with Sam, Bucky is now the one doing the rescuing in an animal adoption shelter.Please read the tags!!   I will put additional notes on chapters with mentions of abuse and self harm!





	1. Don’t Speak, I Know What You’re Thinking

Bucky woke up before Steve, as was often the case, just as the sun started to come through the bedroom window and gave the room a warm glow. He glanced over at the clock, and saw that it was 7:25, five minutes until it was time to get up and start the day. He wasn’t sure why, but at some point he had decided that 7:30 was the right time to get out of bed. 

He moved toward Steve, about to wake him up when he paused. Unless he had an early class, Bucky remembered, Steve prefered to wake up whenever he woke up naturally (which was usually about 20 minutes after Bucky got up and the bed got cold). Bucky found it weird, but let him sleep and slipped out of bed, quietly putting on a t-shirt and an old pair of sweatpants before going to the kitchen. 

He turned on the light over the counter, the dim yellowish one that was rarely too bright, and then the coffee maker that Steve had filled with fresh grounds and water the night before, and then got his red bowl from the drying rack next to the sink. He filled it 2/3rds of the way with Honey Nut Chex cereal, and then counted to 5 while he poured the milk. He was nearly done eating when the coffee maker stopped gurgling, and as soon as he finished, he put his bowl and spoon in the sink and took his mug, the black one with a silver handle and red star on it, and filled with with coffee, cream and no sugar. He then went outside to sit on the bench on the porch with his coffee and tablet to read the morning headlines.

 

Steve stepped out onto the porch a little before 8 with his own coffee mug, a blue one with a star in the middle of red and white circles, and watched Bucky for a moment before speaking up, noticing how vigorously his foot was bouncing. 

“Morning Buck.”

Bucky snapped his head up, having been engrossed in something on his tablet, and then instantly relaxed when he looked at Steve with a soft smile and a wave, and then quickly looked back to his tablet. Steve sat down next to him, and noticed that the dog treat was still sitting on the arm of the bench next to him.

“Clint and Lucky havn’t come by yet today?” he asked, looking at the treat.

Bucky just shook his head without taking his eyes off the tablet, and Steve noticed that his foot bounced faster for a moment. 

“It’s only 7:58,” Steve said with a shrug, “I’m sure they will be here soon.”

Clint lived two and a half blocks away in the apartment building he owned, and walked his dog past Steve and Bucky’s house every morning that it wasn’t raining. Bucky would wait with a treat for Lucky, and greet them on the sidewalk. They had filled the 8am slot in Bucky’s routine for almost a year now, and Steve and Bucky often attended the Friday night barbeques on the roof of Clint’s building. 

It was at one of those barbeques when Steve pulled Clint aside and thanked him for going along with Bucky’s routine with the morning visits, but Clint just brushed it off. 

“I know I don’t have too, but I kinda like it. My life could use some more stability to be honest, and half the time Lucky is dragging me out the door to come get his treat from Bucky anyway.” 

Steve just nodded and gave a mumbled thanks. He hadn’t thought of it as a benefit to anyone else, and mentally berated himself for thinking of Bucky as a burden to others. Again. 

“You’re good Steve, and so is he. Remember what you told me, you're his boyfriend, not his caretaker. No one here cares that he’s autistic, he's just Bucky, who really likes to read and talk about WWII or Star Wars, when he's not distracted by something furry.” 

Steve looked across the roof to where Bucky was sitting with Clint’s tenant Dugan, a WWII veteran who loved sharing his stories. Bucky was running his fingers through Lucky’s fur while he listened to Dugan talk. He looked up at Steve with a smile, always knowing exactly where he was was in a crowd, and Steve smiled back. 

“I guess they do make a good pair,” Steve agreed.

“Yup” Clint agreed with a nod, “And without Bucky around, he would go back to telling ME the same stories over and over. I appreciate it more than you know.”

Steve just laughed in agreement, having heard Dugan’s stories himself multiple times. 

 

Bucky had held up the tablet toward Steve several times while they waited for Clint and Lucky to come by, showing him the headlines that had caught his interest. A few times, Steve had taken the tablet to read more of an article while Bucky anxiously looked up the street. Finally at 8:12, Bucky saw golden fur at the end of the block and quickly snatched up the treat and ran down to the sidewalk. Clint let go of the leash, having learned from the time Lucky managed to wrap the leash around Clints ankles and take him down in his excitement, and allowed the dog to run to Bucky. 

Bucky was grinning as Lucky ran around him in circles, occasionally jumping up to lick his face after eating his treat. Steve noticed the tension lift from Bucky as soon as Lucky was near by, and felt more relaxed himself, he realized. 

“Good morning, Bucky,” Clint called as he got closer, not nearly as motivated as his dog to get to Bucky and Steve’s that morning. 

Bucky looked up with a smile and waved, before turning his attention to Lucky again, and to trying to wrestle away the stick the dog had found in the front bushes. It may have been one that Steve found in the park and planted there. 

“Not talking today?” Clint asked as he sat next to Steve on the porch. 

“Not yet,” Steve replied, not sounding concerned at all. “He had no problem making coffee and cereal though, so I dont think its anything major.”

Clint just nodded in understanding and leaned back with a sigh. 

“Rough morning?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow in Clints direction.

“Too many shots last night,” he groaned. “Kate and America dragged me out with them to celebrate something, I have no idea what. I took out my hearing aid as soon as the awful cover band started.”

Steve just laughed.  
“I guess that’s one benefit to being deaf,” he conceded.

Clint just nodded as he stood and stretched, yawning as he lifted his arms over his head.  
“So many annoying things we can choose not to hear,” he agreed 

Bucky and Lucky’s tug-of-war over the stick ended, and Bucky was sitting on the stairs with the dog at his side when Clint came back to the sidewalk, announcing that he needed a few more hours of sleep. 

Feel better, Clint. Bucky signed with a frown, followed by a wave good bye. 

See you tomorrow. Clint signed back, and then made his way back home with Lucky at his heels. 

“Shower time, Bucky,” Steve reminded, standing up and grabbing his now empty coffee mug. 

Bucky stood and collected his own mug and tablet and followed Steve into the kitchen. After setting his mug in the sink to wash later, and his tablet back on the charger, he noticed Steve was standing patiently in the doorway, waiting. Bucky hesitated a moment, and then rushed toward Steve, pulling him into a hug. 

Steve, without any hesitation, hugged him back, squeezing tight and gently rocking side to side in rhythm with Bucky, until Bucky pulled away and looked down at Steve, making eye contact for the briefest moment. Bucky gave Steve a quick, chaste kiss before pulling away, and making the sign for thank you. 

Steve didn’t have to ask what Bucky was thanking him for. He had heard Bucky say all the reasons enough times. For accommodating his routines. For understanding that sometimes talking was a lot of effort, and not forcing him to try to talk anyway. For not trying to make him act ‘normal’ and never telling him to stop ‘acting so autistic’. For always treating Bucky like an equal (even when Bucky was overloaded by crowds and noise and on the verge of a meltdown or struggling to complete a basic task). For still loving him even though he was probably difficult sometimes.

 

They showered (together, as they had agreed was probably for the best after the 3rd time Bucky had come into the bedroom with shampoo still in his hair), dressed and were on their way to work by 8:45. Bucky had signed to a Steve few times that morning, using the basic signs Clint had taught them, and Steve found himself relax further at the communication. Bucky and Steve were far from fluent, but Clint had taught them enough for Bucky to be able to still be able to communicate his needs while non-verbal. (It was also helpful when Steve’s hearing aid broke, and he was back to only having 40% of his hearing for nearly a week.)

They arrived at the animal shelter at 9, and found Sam still in the process of unlocking the door and turning on lights. Bucky just gave a quick nod to Sam, and went straight to one of the animal rooms of the shelter without giving Steve his usual kiss goodbye. 

Sam noticed Steve’s slight frown as he watched his boyfriend disappear through the door.  
“What did you do to piss him off this time? You didn’t break his mug or something, did you?” he questioned. 

A couple years ago, Steve accidently dropped (and broke) Bucky’s juice glass, the Star Wars one that had been washed so many times the characters printed on were almost completely faded, and what was left of Chewbacca's face was honestly terrifying. Bucky still brought it up sometimes.

“Nothing?” Steve replied, not sounding convinced. “He’s not talking today, not even to Lucky, but he did sign a little bit this morning, and he hugged me at home. I have no idea what triggered it this time.”

“Maybe nothing, stop worrying about it and get to class,” Sam instructed, and Steve just nodded and started moving toward the door. 

“That’s the cat room.” Steve said suddenly, stopping in the middle of the lobby and pointing toward the door Bucky had disappeared through. “He usually starts in the dog room.”

Sam cocked his head to the side, thinking for a moment. Steve was right. 

“Daisy was finally adopted out.” Sam announced, making a connection. “She went to her new home yesterday afternoon.”

“ Ahh, the pitbull, right?” Steve asked, “I remember Bucky talking about her several times.”

Sam just nodded. “She was here longer than most, I think he got a little attached.”

“I guess I should prepare myself for a Star Wars marathon tonight then,” Steve groaned. Bucky liked watching Star Wars when he was sad.

 

In the cat room, Bucky was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall at the far end of the room, when a black and white cat named Jetta meowed at him from a nearby cage. 

Bucky opened the door, and Jetta went straight to his lap, purring loudly as Bucky scratched behind his ears.  
“Daisy isn’t there anymore, and i'm not ready to see her empty cage yet.” He whispered to the cat. 

He sat for a few minutes before standing and returning the cat to his cage, and began his job taking care of the animals.


	2. Here I go, scream my lungs out to try to get to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saying Goodbye is never easy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read and commented so far! I dont know how long this fic will be, and I don't really have a posting schedule for it, but I have 1 more completed chapter written after this and will hopefully be able to post a chapter each week.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @kaiwrites for updates on this fic, ad well as some sneak peeks of other things im working on.
> 
>  
> 
> See end notes for warnings on this chapter

Everyone knew that Bucky didn’t always cope well with change. A few people even understood that his reasons were more complicated than it being because ‘autistic people just don't like changes to their routine’. That was part of it, but he generally adjusted without it being too much of a big deal. Bucky didn’t like when the change involved people leaving (and animals counted as people), because history had taught him that bad things followed. 

Becca was sent to a foster home with real family when they were 12, and Bucky was left behind in the group home they had been in for almost a year, since their parents were killed in a car accident. Steve was still there, but Steve wasn’t his twin, and he hadn’t spent every moment of his life with Steve like he had with Becca. 

The first full day without Becca, Bucky sat in the corner of the bedroom he shared with Steve rocking forward and back as he stared at a speck on the far wall. He sat there for hours, ignoring anyone who tried to talk to him. The adults left him alone for a while, and Steve would poke his head in to check on him every hour or so, convinced Bucky would eventually snap out of it, and want to play a board game or something. 

By the third hour, Bucky had stopped rocking and was rhythmically punching himself in the thigh. Steve sat down a few feet away, speaking gently to him, asking him please stop hurting himself and just talk to him, please. It was the wrong thing to say. 

Everything was just wrong. There was a hole now, a missing piece, and it hurt. The whole place was wrong now without Becca and he just needed to get away from it. Punching was a little bit of a distraction, just painful enough to give him something else to think about, but everything was still wrong. 

Steve was trying, Bucky knew he was, but he wasn't actually helping. He wanted him to talk, but Bucky didn’t know what to say, couldn't explain why everything was empty and bad, and doubted he could even make his mouth say the words right even if he did know what they were. What he did know however was that it was making Steve sad, and that he wanted to be able to do what Steve asked, but he couldn’t. 

It added to the bad. Becca was gone and now Steve was sad too. He needed to get it out. Fill the void, drive out the bad. Get it out. Get it out. GET IT OUT!

He stopped punching himself suddenly, and ran his thumb across the nails of his fingers. They had gotten longer than normal, and were a little sharp. He quickly pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and dug his fingers into his left forearm, scratching from wrist to elbow, sharp nails drawing blood more easily than he expected. It hurt, and it burned, as he dragged his nails across his skin leaving a pink trail of broken skin and specks of blood, and it was good. He did it again, and again, harder and deeper with each swipe, and it was still good. He could focus again, feel something.

Steve gasped at the first sight of blood, and was soon crying and begging him to stop, voice hoarse as he screamed for the caretaker on duty to help. Steve wanted to grab his friend by the arm and make him stop, to pull him into a tight hug and make it all ok again, but Bucky had a reputation for punching people who touched him without permission, and Steve really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Bucky’s fists. Steve had been given permission, but he wasn’t sure it currently applied. 

Eventually, two adults came to the room and were quick to grab Bucky’s wrists and pull him up off the floor and down the hall to the bathroom, while he screamed and kicked and tried to fight them. The larger man struggled to hold Bucky still while the other cleaned and bandaged the scratches and cut his fingernails painfully short. Steve watched from the hall, helplessly crying and wishing he could have done a better job helping his friend. 

The next day, Bucky sat rocking on the floor and staring at the wall again, still refusing to talk. He ran his hand up and down his left arm, fingertips slowly ghosting over the bandages. Steve sat next to him, drawing and staying silent as well. Bucky steadily shifted closer to Steve throughout the day, and by the time dinner was served, he was curled into the fetal position with his head in Steve's lap, gently tapping a thumb to his wrist as Steve stroked his hair. 

The day after that, a woman with a clipboard came and asked Bucky a bunch of weird questions, and he heard the word autism used in reference to himself for the first time. The next day, he was informed, he would be leaving the group home to attend the Hydra Academy, where they would help him with all of his problems, and shape a better future for him.

\------------------------------

 

Steve arrived home a few hours later than usual, having been stuck late at the university for a department meeting. He wasn’t surprised to find Bucky curled up under a heavy blanket on the couch. He was surprised to find a book in his lap instead of Star Wars on the TV however. 

“Hi Stevie,” Bucky greeted, putting down his book and turning to look toward the entryway at Steve.

“Hey Buck,” Steve replied as he took of his coat and shoes. “I didn’t think that meeting was ever going to end.”

“You say that after every department meeting. I don't know why you're still surprised when they run over,” Bucky replied flatly. “I’m not surprised by it.”

Steve just grinned. “Yeah, your right. I guess I’ll just have to find something else to complain about next time.” 

Steve paused next to the couch, eyeing the spot next to Bucky with a slightly raised eyebrow, and pointing toward himself. They both understood the gesture to mean ‘is it okay if I sit close to you right now?” and Bucky responded with a nod and moved his feet so Steve could sit. Just because Bucky was talking again didn’t necessarily mean he wanted company at that moment. 

As soon as Steve was sitting, Bucky reached over to grab Steves shoulder and pulled him closer into a kiss. Slow and deep this time, the reverse of the quick one from that morning. Bucky was the first to pull away, glancing away with a shy grin. “Hi Stevie,” he whispered, and then laughed when Steve kissed his forehead in reply. 

“Lay back?” Bucky requested, and Steve was quick to agree. They smoothly shifted positions so that Bucky’s back was to the arm of the couch, and Steve was sitting in front of him with his back pressed to Bucky’s chest and their legs tangled together. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve, holding him close and feeling safe. Steve’s weight on top of him was solid and comforting, grounding and good. They lay in silence for several minutes while Steve gently stroked Bucky’s leg while Bucky pressed his lips and chin to Steve's head, smiling as the soft blond hair touched his face and planted the occasional soft kiss. 

“Did you eat?” Steve eventually asked, noticing his own hunger.  
“Sort of?” Bucky replied. They often had different ideas on what counted as an actual meal.  
“I had a little bit of the left over pasta.” He clarified after Steve groaned softly.  
“That’s not really dinner.” Steve lazily argued. “Pizza?” he suggested.  
“That sounds good,” Bucky replied, “And watch a movie? You can choose?”  
Steve was relieved at the realization that they weren’t going to watch something Star Wars related. He didn’t mind it, but they had watched the original trilogy so many times and unlike Bucky, Steve had a tolerance level when it came to the franchise. 

Groaning, Steve got up from the couch and went to change out of his work clothes and remove his contact lenses while Bucky sent a text with their usual order for delivery to the pizza place a few blocks away. Clint had discovered the place, having noticed a small sign announcing that they took orders via text messages while walking Lucky one day. He excitedly told Steve and Bucky about it at the next Friday night Barbeque, and Sam just shook his head with a grin as they excitedly agreed that getting pizza without having to talk on the phone was the greatest thing ever, because talking on the phone was the worst. Technology was making it so that Sam had to be the designated phone call maker less and less often. 

Steve returned to the living room in sweatpants, his old NYU hoodie (the one that had originally been Bucky’s and made him look even tinier than usual) and glasses, and slipped back into his spot on Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s phone beeped with a text reply confirming their order with an estimated 30 minutes for delivery. Steve turned on the TV and put on Netflix, quickly navigating to a documentary they had watched a few episodes of before called “Baby Animals in the Wild” and began an episode featuring Seals and Sea lions. 

They were nearing the end of the first episode when the pizza arrived. Bucky felt slightly empty when Steve stood to answer the door, when the pressure of Steve's back against his chest was gone suddenly, but relaxed again when he remembered it was only temporary. They ate sitting on the couch, knees touching and elbows occasionally bumping, and then Bucky pulled Steve back on top of him once they were done.

They were half way through a third episode when Steve noticed Bucky had fallen asleep and turned of the show.  
“Hey, wake up Babe,” Steve called softly, gently rubbing Bucky’s arm.  
Bucky slowly opened his eyes, and glared at Steve for a moment, looking slightly disoriented. 

“Bed time,” Steve announced. “Go brush your teeth.”

Bucky stretched his arms over his head and groaned before standing up. He glanced at the clock, and shrugged as he made his way toward the bathroom. The fact that he didn’t argue that it was only 10:00 and not bed time for another hour was proof of how tired he was. 

 

They were laying in bed, Steve nearly asleep when Bucky spoke.  
“I hope Daisy is happy with her new family.”

“Sam mentioned that she got adopted yesterday. That's good. I’m sure she is super happy.” Steve replied cautiously. 

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he always got a little worried when people (and sometimes animals) in Bucky’s life left, having still not gotten over Bucky’s violent meltdown over Becca leaving the group home. He never wanted to feel that helpless when it came to Bucky again.

“It is good, and her new family seems really nice, but I miss seeing her. Daisy was even happier to see me in the morning than Lucky is some days.”

Steve reached over and grabbed Bucky’s hand, encouraging him to continue. 

“I'm sorry I got attached, and It made me sad, I know I’m not supposed to.”

“It’s not your fault, babe. I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” Steve assured him. “Is that why you were quiet this morning?”

Bucky sighed, and shifted position so his hand was near his head. Steve didn’t need to see him to know that his fingers were twisting into his long hair. 

“I think so? I just got used to seeing her every morning and it took months to find her a family, and I knew it wasn’t going to be the same with her gone, and it was a little like there was a hole, but not like a Becca hole. Just a tiny one. It didn’t make me want to hurt myself.”

Bucky wouldn't say it out loud either, but he knew exactly what Steve worried about whenever Bucky went nonverbal. Neither of them wanted a replay of that day. 

Steve rolled over, pulling Bucky into a hug.  
“I love you,” he whispered. “It's ok to be sad sometimes. Don’t think that you’re not allowed.”

“MJ told me the same thing, when we were giving some of the dogs baths today. I think she misses Daisy a little bit too,” Bucky replied, voice muffled by Steve’s shoulder. 

“It sounds like Daisy is a very lucky dog, to be loved by so many people,” Steve yawned. 

“Her new family is very lucky to have her.” Bucky answered, and snuggled in closer to Steve to go to sleep.

Steve understood the implied ‘I wish you weren’t allergic so we could have been her new family’ and was secretly relieved, knowing that Bucky would turn their small apartment into a menagerie if allowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for self harm in the first section. Bucky goes non-verbal in the group home as a kid, and it escalates to a melt down when Bucky begins punching himself and then scratches his arms with fingernails till they bleed. He is roughly picked up and dragged away by 2 male caretakers who hold him tightly while trimming his nails and bandaging his arm.


	3. The Man Who Will Fight For Your Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New dogs are rescued and taken into the shelter, and Bucky has some work to do to gain their trust with MJ's help

It was 7:23 when Bucky woke up, and 7:28 when Bucky woke Steve up by running a finger along Steve's side, at his waist where Steve was extremely ticklish, laughing as Steve flailed in his sleep, and then slapped away Bucky’s hand once he woke up. It was Wednesday, when Steve taught a 9 am lecture, and the only day of the week when he actually wanted to be woken up early. 

“Morning, Stevie,” he grinned down at him, and laughed as Steve groaned in greeting. 

Steve was not a morning person, at all. Given the choice, he would sleep till noon or later every day, and stay up drawing and reading until two or three in the morning. Unfortunately, the University wouldn't allow him to only teach afternoon and evening classes.

Bucky leaned over Steve and kissed his forehead. “It’s 7:30 Babe, get up.”

Steve just groaned again, and rolled over away from Bucky, burying his face back into the pillow. Bucky just shook his head and smiled, comforted by Steve’s predictable behavior. He put on his old soft sweatpants he had been wearing since college (and that Steve kept unsuccessfully trying to replace) and a T shirt, and went to the kitchen to make coffee. 

He had just started eating his Honey Nut Chex out of the red bowl when he heard it. 

AHHHHHHH ahhhhh AaaahHHH 

The screaming continued at various frequencies for nearly a minute, while Bucky laughed so hard his eyes began to tear up. 

“Fucking Jerk!” Steve yelled a second after the noise stopped. 

Bucky had finished his cereal, and was pouring coffee into his black mug with the red star and silver handle when Steve stumbled into the kitchen, glaring. 

“Do I even want to know what that noise was?” He asked, tiredly glaring at Bucky.

“Screaming goats.” Bucky replied, like it was obvious, and went out to the porch to read the news on his tablet and wait for Clint and Lucky.

Steve didn’t really reply, just shook his head, and went to fill his own coffee mug. Obnoxious as it was, he was amused by Bucky’s habit of changing Steve’s Wednesday morning alarm tone. It was almost impressive how Bucky managed to find something even more obnoxious than the last one each week and he almost looked forward to seeing what Bucky had come up with for his standard Wednesday morning torture.

Clint and Lucky came by at 8:07 that day, and they were saying goodbye to Bucky and continuing around the block at 8:18 when when Steve came out on the the porch, already showered and dressed for work. He was carrying his messenger bag and travel coffee mug and looked like he was barely awake. He gave Bucky a goodbye kiss, and waved to Clint as he headed toward the subway, mumbling something about not wanting to miss his train again. 

Bucky stood on the porch as he finished his coffee, watching Steve disappear down the sidewalk and into the crowd of morning commuters, before heading inside to get ready for work himself. It wouldn’t be quite right to say that Bucky hated Wednesdays, but they were definitely his least favorite day of the week. 

He put his empty mug in the sink, plugged his tablet in to charge, and went to the bathroom to shower. He didn’t know how long he stood under the spray, eyes closed and face turned up as the water hit his forehead, shoulders and chest. The water pressure was inconsistent, pulsing between hard and slightly less hard in a rapid, machine gun like rhythm. It was soothing. He realized that if Steve had been there, he would be nudging him with a bar of soap and telling him to quit hogging all the water, and took a step back, and then picked up the bar of soap himself. He rinsed his hair 3 times after shampooing, since he couldn’t be sure he had gotten it all out, and Steve wasn’t there to check for him. 

Despite taking ten minutes longer in the shower than normal, Bucky managed to get dressed, grab the lunch he had packed the night before, and arrived at to the shelter at 9:02 am. He waited five minutes for Sam to arrive.

“Still not the day you're going to actually use your own key?” Sam asked as he unlocked the door.

“Nope. Can't take the risk of a family coming in while you're not here. The humans are your responsibility.” Bucky replied. It was the same argument every time, and Sam shook his head with a sigh every time. 

“Riley should be here with 2 new dogs in a couple hours.” Sam explained, walking behind the front desk and turning on his computer. “We got a call last night about a pair of mutts chained outside of a house, said they are both skinny and sick looking. He and Scott are on their way now to try to get them out of there.”

Bucky just nodded, running through the steps in his head of everything he needed to do to get ready for the new dogs to arrive. He decided that the dogs should be quarantined for at least a couple days, and made setting up the cages in the back room a priority. He quickly went down the aisles between the cages and greeted each animal with a scratch behind an ear as he filled water and food bowls, promising to come back later to take them out for play time. 

He then went into the small room in the back of shelter that doubled as an exam room and quarantine area, and laid out fresh paper, pillows and blankets in the cages. He also checked his supply of bandages and antiseptic, and readied syringes of saline, expecting wounds that would need to be cleaned. He also made sure the tick comb was cleaned and ready to go, and set the flea killing shampoo near the tub in another room, and finally pulled two tubes of dewormer paste from a drawer. 

By 10:30, Riley and Scott still hadn’t arrived, so Bucky organized the job lists for the volunteers that would be coming that afternoon, and cleaned off yesterday’s checkmarks from the dry erase to-do lists. A lot of volunteers balked at Bucky’s rules about the lists, and checking thing off once a job was done, but it saved important things, like feeding the odd hamster that occasionally came through, from being forgotten. Many of the volunteers would eventually admit that they kind of enjoyed checking things off, and would celebrate slightly as they dramatically drew a check mark. It also meant less people wandering around and annoying Bucky while they tried to figure out what to do. 

It was nearly 11 when Bucky heard the van pull up to the back door, and went out to meet Scott and Riley. Sam was already out there, greeting his husband with a hug. Riley buried his face into Sam’s neck with a long sigh, mumbling something as Sam stroked his back. 

“Any problems?” Sam asked once Riley pulled away from the hug. 

“No, it went as expected.” Riley answered, “It didn’t look like anyone was home, like the neighbor said, so we had no problems getting into the yard.”

“Good” Sam replied with a nod “No gang issues either?”

“Not once they realized what we were doing,” Riley explained, “Then they helped.”

“It took less than a minute before a couple ten year olds were questioning what the hell a couple white dudes were doing there with a van, warning us that we were in their territory.” Riley continued, “Basically what we expected. As soon as we told them we were going to try to get the dogs out, they dropped their guards. Said they had been trying to sneak in themselves to feed the dogs, but always got chased off by the owners.”

“They got us back up and stood watch while we went in,” Scott said, continuing the story “A couple big guys came by and helped up lift the carriers over the fence since the gate was locked. We could have cut the lock, of course, but this was probably better.”

Bucky stood back listening to Scott and Riley’s story, and eventually made his way to open the back doors of the van. The two dogs in the carriers were curled up all the way to the back, growling as Bucky looked in.   
“Hey, boys,” he said gently, “I’m going to take care of you, ok?” 

“Did either of them seem dangerous?” Bucky asked, looking to Sam and Riley.

Riley just shook his head with a frown. “They both acted threatening when we got close, growling and showing teeth, but I don't think either of them have the energy to attack.”

Bucky nodded, not surprised by Riley's answer.   
“Let's get them inside” he directed. 

They moved the carriers into the exam room, setting them on the floor in the corner where Bucky had cleared a space. Sam, Riley and Scott left to begin the daily chores in the main kennel room, leaving Bucky alone with the two new dogs. 

Bucky opened each door, placing a small bowl of food and water just outside each cage, and sat on the floor on the other side of the room. The dogs had growled when Bucky opened the cages, pressing themselves to the back wall as they shied away. He hoped that if he sat quietly, the dogs would see that he wasn't a threat and come out on their own. The last thing he wanted was to further traumatize them by pulling them out of the cages.

After about 10 minutes, the first dog, a black and white that appeared to be a German Shepherd mix, stuck his head out and sniffed at the food bowl and took a small bite. He then looked up at Bucky and shrunk back into the cage slightly like he was expecting to be punished. Bucky didn’t move, keeping his hands visible in his lap, and the dog stuck his head out again, quickly finishing the food. Bucky knew he was still hungry, noticing how skinny the dog was, but feeding them too much at once right now could make them sick. Soon after, the second dog, another mutt who appeared to be primarily Rottweiler, was also getting brave and sniffing at his own food bowl. 

Bucky stayed on the floor for nearly an hour, calmy coaxing the dogs to come toward him by tossing treats onto the floor in the center of the room. The Shepherd mix, who Bucky had named Syd, was the first to come closer and allowed Bucky to scoot across the floor toward him, worried that standing would be seen as threatening, and place a hand on the dogs shoulder. 

“Hey, buddy,” Bucky whispered, running a hand down Syd’s side, “you’re ok. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Syd trembled, but didn’t move as Bucky gave him a quick examination, talking to the dog as he made mental notes of scabbed over fly and flea bites, and patches of thin fur that resulted from malnutrition. Syd started to relax as Bucky scratched around his ears and neck, noticing a few tics and patches of raw skin from the heavy collar and chain. 

The Rottweiler mix, who Bucky had decided to name Jaeger, was far more cautious, staying half way inside the cage as he watched. It would take longer to gain his trust, Bucky knew. 

Slowly, and staying low in a crouched position to be as non-threatening as possible, Bucky laid a couple blankets on the floor with treats on top, and slipped out of the room. He knew from experience that any formal examination of the dogs would go much smoother if they were given a chance to settle on their own first. 

 

A couple hours later, after Bucky had sat behind the desk with Sam and Riley, listening to them talk about vacation plans while he ate his lunch, and gone over job lists with a couple volunteers, he went back into the exam room with MJ, his not so secret favorite. She was one of the volunteers from the local high school who was completing her community service graduation requirement at the shelter. She was quiet and calm with the animals, and was considering going to school to be a veterinarian, and therefore was actually helpful with routine health exams. 

Following Bucky’s lead, they slowly entered the room and sat against the opposite wall from the cages again, doing their best to be non threatening and gain the dogs trust. Bucky was happy to see that they were both out of the cages and sitting on blankets seeming more relaxed than before. The treats and food had all been eaten. As before, Syd was the braver of the 2, eventually coming over and taking the treat from MJ’s outstretched hand. He allowed her to stroke his shoulder for a moment before shying away, backing up so he was just out of reach from where they were sitting. 

Motioning to MJ to stay where she was, Bucky slowly stood and walked to the exam table. He was surprised to see that Syd followed him, and was sniffing at Bucky’s pocket for more treats. Bucky pulled out a treat, and smiled when sit immediately sat and looked up expectantly, as if awaiting a command. 

“Shake.” Bucky said holding out a hand, suspecting that tricks and treats may be the way to gain the dogs trust, and grinned when the dog immediately lifted a paw.   
“Good boy,” Bucky rewarded, pulling out another treat. Syd looked up as before, expectantly, and Bucky placed the treat on the table, saying ‘up’ this time.   
There was a little hesitation this time, but the dog jumped up onto the table and ate the treat. 

Across the room, the other dog Jaeger had perked up from his blanket, and was watching as Bucky gave Syd treats and began combing out the ticks from his fur. Bucky looked over at MJ, who was also watching from her spot on the floor, and quietly told her to see if she could get close to Jaeger. He watched approvingly as she stayed low and slowly moved toward him, hand stretched out with a treat. Within a few minutes, Jaeger had taken a couple treats from MJ’s hand, and was allowing her to stroke his head and shoulder.


	4. If I Fall Back Down, You're Gonna Pick Me Back Up Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hydra Academy, Steve quickly learned, had controlled every aspect of his life, choosing for him when and what he was allowed to eat. Everything from classes, and study time, to when he was to shower was decided for him. Books and board games were only allowed as rewards, and breaking the rules meant solitary time out. They had done the exact opposite of what he was promised, and had in no way helped him shape a better future for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see end notes for additional warnings (emotional abuse)

Steve was the first to arrive home that night and was in the middle of cooking dinner when Bucky got home, placing his lunch bag on the counter and sinking into a chair with a sigh. Steve turned around, sauce covered spoon in hand, and looked at Bucky with a frown. 

“Hey babe,” he greeted warmly. “Whats up?”

“Riley rescued new dogs today,” Bucky explained, looking down at the fidget toy in his hands. “They were left tied up outside, and didn't get enough food, and some neighbors asked us to come take the dogs away.” 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said with a frown. “How are they doing now?” 

“Ok,” Bucky answered, still twisting the conjoined metal rings around his fingers, “they are really scared of people, and way too skinny, but they will be ok again. MJ helped me take care of the fleas and ticks and we are going to try baths tomorrow.” He slumped down on the table with another sad sigh. 

Steve set his spoon down next to the stove and walked over to Bucky, nudging his shoulder. Bucky sat up again and scooted the chair away from the table so Steve could sit in his lap and wrap an arm around him. Bucky sighed again, and put an arm around Steve to pull him closer, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth as he did so. Steve melted into Bucky’s embrace, resting a head on his shoulder, and put his other arm around his waist, holding Bucky in a hug until he felt his partner start to relax. “I love you, Buck”, he whispered, “and I think it's amazing what you do for all of those animals, and how gentle you are when you take care of them.”

Bucky didn’t respond, and instead leaned down to kiss Steve on the mouth. It was quick and desperate, and a little rough. A request for physical contact and validation. For a distraction. And Steve gave, shifting in Bucky’s lap and grabbing at his shoulder and hair as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, reminding Bucky how much he was loved, and validated, until they were interrupted by the timer buzzing, and Steve pulled away so he could remove the chicken from the oven.   
\---------------------------------------

Later that night Steve was lying awake, staring at the ceiling as he listened to Bucky’s soft snores. Tears were threatening to run down his cheeks as he remembered the night he had found Bucky again, sitting on the stoop of a closed up shop. He had turned 18, and no longer a ward of the state. He had graduated, declared to be cured by the Hydra Academy and sent off to find his own way once the state was no longer funding his education. 

It had taken three days before Bucky could be convinced that Steve still wanted to be his friend, and that there were no conditions that would go along with Steves invitation to come live with him instead of trying for a spot in a shelter. It was another week before Steve started to see glimpses of the Bucky he remembered from when they were kids in the group home. 

He remembered the first week after Bucky had come to live with him, and frowned at the memory of how scared and withdrawn he had become. He had been hesitant to do anything without Steve’s permission, and most mornings Steve would find him sitting perfectly still on the couch he had been sleeping on, blankets neatly folded and tucked away in the corner, waiting for Steve to wake and make breakfast. 

The Hydra Academy, Steve quickly learned, had controlled every aspect of his life, choosing for him when and what he was allowed to eat. Everything from classes, and study time, to when he was to shower was decided for him. Books and board games were only allowed as rewards, and breaking the rules meant solitary time out. They had done the exact opposite of what he was promised, and had in no way helped him shape a better future for himself. 

By the second week, Steve had figured out a few breakfast foods that Bucky seemed to enjoy, and helped him make a new routine for the morning, with coffee, cereal, and the morning news on TV. It worked out well, and by the 3rd morning, Steve found him looking comfortable and relaxed on the couch instead of anxious and afraid. 

On the 4th morning of Bucky’s new breakfast routine, Steve woke to find Bucky pacing back in front of the TV, watching a segment about local cats and dogs that were up for adoption. He had one hand twisted in the drawstring of his hoodie, and was alternating between wiggling his fingers and gently tapping his thigh with his other hand as he paced. He bounced on his toes and clapped his hands when one of the dogs performed a trick. And he was smiling, Steve noticed, like how Steve remembered when they were kids. 

Steve stood watching from the doorway to his bedroom, smiling as he remembered how excited Bucky used to get when they saw dogs in the park when they were kids. 

Bucky froze when he noticed Steve standing behind him, dropping his arms to his sides.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky said quietly, looking nervously at the floor. “I know I’m not supposed to do that. I’ll remember quiet hands better next time.”

Steve frowned and took a couple small steps toward Bucky.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Buck,” Steve replied.

Bucky just shook his head, still looking down.   
“But it’s a rule. It’s against the rules to not have quiet hands.”

“Is that what they told you at the Hydra Academy?” Steve questioned. “That you can’t move your hands like I just saw?”

Bucky nodded, and Steve noticed the panicked look his eyes. 

“You’re not at the Academy anymore though,” Steve reminded him, “so you don’t have to follow all of their rules anymore either.”

“I don’t?” Bucky questioned, lifting his head to look at Steve. “But they said that if I don’t do quiet hands, and If I don’t make eye contact when I’m talking to people, then everyone will know I’m not normal, and they won’t like me.”

Bucky dropped to the floor, pulling his legs close to his chest, and hugged his knees tight. He bit his lip as he stared across the room. 

“Is it ok if I sit close to you and touch you?” Steve asked, taking another hesitant step toward Bucky. 

Bucky glanced up at Steve a moment, and then nodded in confirmation. Steve sat cross legged next to him, and placed a hand on Bucky’s back, stroking gently in a circular motion. Bucky let out a long sigh, and relaxed slightly. 

“But it’s a rule though.” Bucky said again, still sounding unsure. 

“It used to be a rule,” Steve corrected, “but now you live here with me, and I’m saying it doesn’t have to be anymore.”

“Good,” Bucky stated, “I really hated that one.”

Bucky sighed again, and changed positions so that he was laying on his side with his head in Steve’s lap, like he used to do when they were kids in the group home. 

“I used to like when you played with my hair,” Bucky said, once he was settled. 

“I liked it too,” Steve said, and began combing his fingers through Bucky’s long hair. “And I like your hair long like this.”

They stayed quiet for several minutes as Bucky relaxed under Steve’s touch. 

“Can we change the Star Wars rule too?” Bucky asked, sounding nervous again. “It’s my favorite, but they wouldn’t let me watch it anymore, ‘cause they said it wasn’t normal to just watch the same movie over and over.”

“Of course we can,” Steve told him with a smile. “I don’t have it here, but we can go see if the library does after I have my breakfast.”

Bucky quickly sat up, and threw his arms around Steve, pulling him into a tight hug.   
“Thanks, Stevie,” He said quietly. “I really missed you a lot.”

“I missed you a lot too, Buck,” Steve said, leaning into Bucky. “Now let me up so I can have some coffee.”

\------------------------------------------

Bucky was the first to wake on Thursday morning, as usual, and slipped out of bed at 7:30 being careful not to wake Steve. He had finished his cereal in his red bowl, and was sitting on the porch with his coffee in the black mug with the silver handle, reading the news on his tablet by 7:55, Lucky’s treat ready at his elbow. 

By 8:20, Clint and Lucky had still not arrived, and Steve had not joined him on the porch with his own coffee, and Bucky was starting to feel anxious. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and sent a text to Clint asking if he was ok, and spent the next 10 minutes watching his phone for a reply that never came.

He placed his mug in the sink and put his tablet back on the charger before going back into the bedroom, where Steve was still asleep. 

“Hey Stevie,” Bucky said loudly, crawling across the bed to kneel next to Steve. “Wake up, babe.”

He jostled Steve shoulder, frowning as Steve rolled away with a mumble of ‘5 more minutes’.  
Bucky’s anxiety grew, as he tried again to wake Steve, bouncing on his knees so that the whole bed shook as he called to Steve again, leaning close to his good ear. 

“It’s Thursday, Buck, you know I don’t have to go to the University today.” Steve complained as he slowly opened his eyes and turned toward his boyfriend. 

“I know, but something’s wrong,” Bucky protested. He was kneeling next to Steve and rocking forward and back, hand clenched in a fist as he spoke. “Clint and Lucky didn’t come by today, and it’s not raining, and Clint didn’t respond when I texted him,” He explained quickly. 

“He probably just overslept, Buck,” Steve replied with a yawn.

“Maybe,” Bucky replied with a frown, still looking worried. “But what if something happened?”

Steve turned toward Bucky, looking like he could fall back to sleep in an instant. He reached an arm out to Bucky, who was quick to curl up at Steve’s side with his head on Steves chest. Steve held him tight for a long moment while he made a plan.

“If Clint still hasn’t responded after we shower, we can go check on him,” Steve decided and explained to Bucky. 

Bucky nodded in agreement and pulled away from Steve and got off the bed, anxiously waiting for Steve to follow. 

20 minutes later, they were showered and dressed, and Clint still hadn’t responded. Bucky was was halfway out the door with his shoes and jacket already on, when Steve yelled at him to wait a minute.   
“I need to fill up my coffee mug first, and you need to text Sam and tell him you will be late getting to the shelter today,” Steve instructed. 

 

Steve and Bucky heard Lucky barking from inside Clints apartment as soon as they reached the 3rd floor, a mix of small yelps and whimpers that made Bucky frown and walk faster. The barking grew louder when they knocked at the door, and Bucky could hear the clicking of his nails on the hardwood floor as Bucky assumed he was frantically pacing on the other side. There was no response from Clint, and Steve cautiously opened the door, grateful for once that their friend never remembered to lock it.

Lucky barked excitedly, running in circles around Steve and Bucky, bumping against their legs before darting toward the couch where Clint was passed out, drooling as he snored. Steve walked over to the couch, noticing the broken glass carafe and spilled coffee on the floor, and dried blood across Clint’s cheek and arm that looked recent. There were three empty beer bottles and a bottle of Tylenol PM on the coffee table next to him.

Bucky stood by the door, watching as Steve woke Clint with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Clint’s eyes shot open, and he started to sit up, but instead groaned and flopped back onto the couch. He looked confused as he glanced around and Steve and Bucky, wondering why they were in his apartment.

“What’s going on guys?” He mumbled, sounding groggy, and looking for something. “Need my ears.” 

Steve spotted the pair of purple hearing aids on the far end of the coffee table and handed them over, waiting for Clint to put them in and turn them on before responding.   
“We came to ask you that,” Steve explained. “Bucky got worried when you didn’t come by this morning, and didn’t respond to his text.” 

Slowly, Clint managed to sit up fully, cringing as he moved his foot off of the stack of pillows it had been propped up on. He grabbed his phone off the table and frowned when he saw the missed text, and that it was after 9 am. 

“Sorry I made you worry, Bucky,” Clint said, looking across the room to where Bucky was still standing by the door, Lucky leaning into his leg. “I just had a little accident and overslept, I’m okay.”

Bucky shook his head and frowned.  
“Your bleeding though, on your face and arm,” he observed, “and you’re moving your leg like it hurts.” 

“Your right,” Clint replied, pulling up his left pant leg to reveal a swollen, purple ankle. “It does “ hurt.” 

Steve sat next to him with a sigh, waving Bucky over to come sit as well.

“What happened this time?” Steve asked, “was it those property developers trying to take the building again?” Some rich guys wanted to buy the building from Clint, planning to tear it down and build a shopping center, and had sent some big guys to try to threaten him into selling a few times in the past.

“Not this time,” Clint began with a sigh. “Lucky decided he didn’t want to wait for me to give him his slice of pizza, and tried to run off with the whole pie. I was already on my 3rd beer at the time, and tripped over him and twisted my ankle trying to get my dinner back. I almost caught myself on the countertop, but ended up knocking the coffee pot off the counter and landing on the broken glass instead.”

Steve frowned and moved to take a look at Clints ankle, apologizing as Clint winced at the touch. “You should have Ice on that,” Steve stated, “and you probably shouldn’t be walking on it either.” 

“No ice here,” Clint replied, looking defeated, “And I can’t make coffee either.”

Lucky barked from near the door, reminding everyone that he was still desperate to go outside. 

“Sorry, buddy,” Clint called to the dog, “but I can’t go on our walk today.”

“I can take him today,” Bucky suggested, “and Steve can find ice while we’re gone and help you with the blood and glass.”

“I don’t have to go to the university today,” Steve explained, agreeing with Bucky’s suggestion. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” Clint replied with another sigh. “I’m sorry for messing up your morning.”

“It’s okay, Clint,” Bucky said as he stood to grab Bucky’s collar and leash. “I’m glad you're going to be ok.”

Lucky barked excitedly at the leash in Bucky’s hand, moving to sit next to the door, barely stilling as his leash was clipped in place, and then took off out the door. Clint and Steve didn’t speak again until the door clicked shut and Lucky and Bucky were on their way around the block. 

“So I’m going to guess that you were in pain last night, and decided to sleep it off instead of dealing with it?” Steve questioned, looking at the bottle of Tylenol PM next to the empty beer bottles. 

Clint just nodded, looking guilty. 

Steve gave him a look, but saved the lecture on mixing alcohol with sleeping pills, and didn’t remind him that he could have called Steve and Bucky for help the night before. Clint had already heard it more than once. Instead, he told him to stay put, and went to the Bodega across the street for ice and a giant cup of coffee. By the time Bucky and Lucky returned, Clint was comfortable on the couch with his foot wrapped in ice and propped up on a pillow, and the cuts on his face and arm had been cleaned, and broken coffee pot had been swept up by Steve. Clint had also told Steve where to find a pair of crutches in the closet, and promised to stay off his foot and at least think about seeing a doctor. 

Bucky was quick to volunteer to take over Lucky’s morning walks until Clint’s foot healed before Clint could even think to ask.

 

Bucky grabbed Steves hand as they walked the 2 ½ blocks back to their apartment, bumping shoulders as they went. Steve talked about his ideas for the book cover he was to create art for, a new commision from a publisher he occasionally did work for, and talked excitedly about the dragon that would be included. Medieval Fantasy was Steve’s favorite genre to create for. 

Bucky smiled as Steve talked about the art, at the way his face lit up as he described the the mountain scene and the wizard that would also be featured. He would probably change into his old jeans with holes and paint specks all over them, and a hoodie that had once belonged to Bucky, working for hours at the drafting table in the spare bedroom, getting so engrossed in his art that he would forget about his coffee.

They arrived back at their apartment and went into the kitchen so that Bucky could grab the lunch he had packed the night before out of the fridge, and Steve could refill his coffee mug. Bucky paused in the doorway on his way out, looking over at Steve, hand held out to him. Steve set down his full mug and came over to Bucky, allowing himself to be pulled into a tight hug. 

“Don’t forget to eat today,” Bucky reminded as he placed a kiss on Steve’s head. 

“That’s supposed to be my line,” Steve said with a laugh, lifting his chin for a kiss goodbye.

Bucky just pulled away with a shrug, and Steve didn’t argue. He didn’t just forget to eat, he lost track of everything that wasn’t his drawing some days.

“Good luck with baths today,” Steve said, waving as Bucky went out the front door. “I love you, babe.”

“Love you, too!” Bucky called back, and then made his way toward the shelter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a flashback scene, Steve sees Bucky stimming/ hand flapping and learns about the ABA therapy Bucky underwent with the Hydra Academy. mentions of quiet hands and autistic trait supression.


End file.
